The Stone Table
by Roisin Dubh Na'Eire
Summary: One-shot. Susan's point of view during the Stone Table and Aslan's death. This is not a verbatum of the book, but rather a thought on her experience of that fateful night.


Light flickered in the cool breeze, betraying the tense night with a soothing touch. The troops lay in their beds, not sleeping, restless with the energy and anticipation of the next day's battle. A figure standing alone in the gentle night catches my attention, though I make no move to confront him. I know Edmund is hurting, but I have nothing to say to him. Whatever I could would only be met with a weak smile and more self-hatred, so I leave him alone under the pale moonlight. Peter will most likely attend him later.

I know I should be sleeping, but some sense of dread keeps me from staying down. It was like the sickening feeling one would get back in London when you heard the sirens go off. That feeling of unknown fear, when time stands still and the air is stagnant with the smell of terror and death.

A cry pulls me from my sleep and Lucy is awake, her eyes wide and her small face drawn in unspoken concern.

"Susan?" she whispers. I ignore her, thinking perhaps if she believes I'm asleep, she will return to bed as well.

"Susan, wake up!" she tries again and I roll over.

"What is it, Luce? You should be sleeping."

Her mouth closes and then opens again. She is too young to be here. We all are. Whatever made us think that we could really be the saviors of this strange land is well beyond reason.

"There's something wrong..." her voice breaks my thoughts.

I sit up, the mahogany dress shifting slightly. "Lucy, it was just a bad dream. Try and get some rest...we don't know what will happen tomorrow."

"I can't."

I was about to lecture her on listening to her older sister when a shadow passed in front of our tent. It was him. The Great Cat, Aslan. The King of Narnia.

"Where is he going so late?" I muse aloud.

"Let's follow." Lucy returns, and not waiting for a reply, gathers her cloak and throws it about her small shoulders.

Knowing my impetuous sister would not be denied, I drape my own woolen cloak around me and gather my quiver and bow. The land could not be trusted tonight.

Past the restless tents of the many different soldiers, we crept, and again my mind returned to how ridiculous this all seemed. Centaurs, dryads, fawns, unicorns...these things did not exist and they most certainly did not fight in epic battles against forces of evil. But then again, they also had a lion as their ruler.

I shook my head silently. Not just any lion. Aslan was different and something about him commanded respect and honor, though he had been nothing but kind and comforting to Lucy and I.

Lucy and I continue to move as quietly as possible through the forest paths, finding our way from the dappled moonlight through the trees. The night is still, as if its holding its breath before a deep plunge. I push the thought away, nothing good could come of this.

Aslan paused and we stopped, quieting our breath so that he might not hear our pounding hearts.

"Why are you following me, children?" he asks, not turning, though I can hear sorrow in his majestic voice.

Lucy stepped forward, her childlike frame looking so frail. "It was hard to sleep."

"Where are you going, Aslan? May we walk with you?" I ask, following my sister and laying a hand on his deep mane.

A sigh escaped his mouth and his head lowered a bit. "I would like company. Though only if you promise to stop when I tell you and to go no further."

Lucy and I nod, not quite understanding his meaning, but finding no reason to question him. The walk is silence and darkness. Even Aslan seems defeated and hopeless...and sad. I continue to steal looks at him, but his eyes remain fixed on the ground, not betraying any information as to the secret destination.

Moments pass, seemingly like an eternity, though Lucy and I keep a firm grip on his mane, and a feeling passes through me that if I let go I might never hold him again.

Abruptly, Aslan halts. "This is where I must leave you."

"Oh, Aslan, what ails you so?" Lucy cried, throwing her face into the massive ring of fur. I kneeled beside him as well, clinging to his neck, wishing only never to let go.

"Children, here I must continue alone and you must not let yourselves be seen," he warned.

We gripped tightly to him, crying and pleading silently, knowing that in the end we must release him. Aslan finally stepped forward, breaking our hold on him and continued forward up the hillside, his proud head bowed low.

Lucy and I followed at a distance, hiding behind trees and rocks or whatever else would give us cover as we trailed in his wake. Realization flooded through me as I realized that this was the same hillside that Aslan had brought us to earlier in the day.

"Lucy, he's headed for the Stone Table."

She looked back momentarily, her eyes reflecting the same fear as my own and we pushed forward at a quickened pace. As we grew closer, a ring of fire and smoke could be seen and a great din of voices carried down the hillside.

The trees broke and we hid behind a large boulder. A group stood around the Stone Table, the flames of the torches dancing across their faces and forms, making them seem even more ominous and frightening. It was like something out of a nightmare, ogres, poisonous tree spirits, minotaurs, and hags all yelling and screaming in a variant of voices.

I wanted to hide, to run away and pretend like it had all been a bad dream. Part of me wanted to pinch myself, and I would wake up safe and sound in my home in London. But even after clenching my eyes tightly, they reopened to the living nightmare.

"Susan!" Lucy exclaimed.

And there he was, Aslan, walking straight towards the shrieking gathering. It was then I caught sight of the woman standing in the center, face drawn tightly, her eyes as cold and unfeeling as the stone she stood upon. A grave smile pulled at the White Witch's lips as she watched Aslan approach, and my stomach plummeted.

I wrapped my arms around Lucy, trying to shield her from what I knew was coming next.

"He is coming, the fool!!" the witch cried above the yells and the horde turned to face the path.

My mind began spinning. And the next few minutes ran by in a blur, the binding of Aslan, when they shaved his great mane, humiliating and degrading him. I could hear cries, but could not understand them. It was as if I did not want to believe what was going on before me. I felt Lucy shake and turned my attention back towards the dizzying spectacle.

The White Witch was bending over Aslan's prostrate and bound form, whispering in his ear. "Hear this and despair and die." With these words a deafening cry went up from the group around her and she raised the dagger. Torchlight danced off of the tip and I turned, pulling Lucy with me, burying my eyes in my arm.

Time stood still, deafening silence, and then a triumphant and hideous cheer. Tears burned hot in my eyes, but I refused to open them.

I could feel Lucy sobbing and the sickening feeling overwhelmed me. It was over. Aslan was dead. The Witch had won.

A hollow darkness settled over me and it seemed as if the sun would never shine, nor would winter ever leave my soul.


End file.
